


Fly On The Wall

by cowboykylux



Series: Kinktober 2020 [12]
Category: Midnight Special (2016)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Surveillance, Vaginal Fingering, Video Cameras, Voyeurism, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, consensual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27239251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Paul Sevier is eyeing the clock, waiting for the exact moment of your instruction, waiting with bated breath as his eyes flit from the bottom corner of his screen, to the piece of paper he’s nearly crumpled in his palm."Channel 12.3.6.a. 2:32am."Two more minutes…one more minute…he clicks open the surveillance cameras and tunes in to the channel you gave him, and his cock fills out quickly in his nice pleated trousers, not believing what he sees.
Relationships: Paul Sevier/Reader, Paul Sevier/You
Series: Kinktober 2020 [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949992
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Fly On The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my Kinktober 2020 fic event
> 
> Prompt: Voyeurism

Cars in the distance sound a million miles away, there in the office. He’s a dozen stories up, and the world around him moves slowly, slow like molasses. You and him are the only two people left in the entire building, the janitors long gone, having finished their sanitation an hour ago. It is just you, and him, on different sections of different floors.

And in his seat, Paul Sevier sweats.

He’s eyeing the clock, waiting for the exact moment of your instruction, waiting with bated breath as his eyes flit from the bottom corner of his screen, to the piece of paper he’s nearly crumpled in his palm.

_Channel 12.3.6.a. 2:32am._

Two more minutes…one more minute…he clicks open the surveillance cameras and tunes in to the channel you gave him, and his cock fills out quickly in his nice pleated trousers, not believing what he sees.

The picture is clear, so clear it’s almost as if he’s looking through a window. You’re there, in a room that looks nearly identical to the one he’s in. Computers, desks, big white boards and stacks of filing cabinets, all the same. You’ve got the lights turned off the same as him, have two little lamps on to illuminate the space, like him.

But you’ve hiked up your pencil skirt, have your hands shoved between your legs, and are moaning around your fingers, very much _unlike_ him.

He moves quickly to rectify that situation.

Fumbling over his belt buckle, he eases down the zipper of his trousers and pulls his cock out. You’re sighing, he can hear it through his speakers, can hear how soft and sweet your sounds are. You don’t have to be quiet, there’s no one around, no one to hear you, but you are anyway. The conference rooms might be empty, but these noises are just for him, just for Paul. Paul’s cock gets impossibly harder at the thought.

He pumps lotion onto his hand and slicks himself up, settles himself back against the cushion of his swivel chair. His eyes are glued to the screen, and shame burns through his cheeks. Shame, adrenaline, the thrill that he gets to see you, gets to watch you like this. Oh, how Paul loves to watch.

He grunts low in the back of his throat when you pop open the buttons of your pretty blue blouse. You’re not wearing a bra, and he can just make out your nipples as they peek through the open shirt. You reach up to tweak one, and across the building you both moan in time.

Paul wonders if he can zoom in, if he might be able to get a better view of you. There’s something sexy, though, about not being able to see. About getting to look without looking at everything. He can’t see your pussy, and it drives him crazy just imagining how beautiful it is. He’s seen it of course, he’s seen all of you, tasted you, touched you – but the way you’re hiding exactly what he wants to look at has him hot, has him burn with desire.

He strokes his cock and tries to match the same pace you set. You’re not looking at the camera – you’re not looking at anything. You’re reclined in your chair, one leg bent and a bare foot braced up against your desk, your head hanging off the back of your swivel. You drool all over yourself, as your hips rise up to meet the pleasure you give yourself, and Paul finds that he’s drooling too.

How long have you been at this, he wonders. How long were you touching yourself, getting yourself riled up, getting yourself wet for him. He knows you knew he’d be watching, he knows you know how hard it gets him. Pretending that you don’t know a thing, pretending that he’s just a fly on the wall, learning about you, absorbing all the information he can about you, to pleasure you later.

“Paul,” You sigh.

The sound of his name on your lips, coming through your speakers in that compressed modulated way that speakers always do, is what does it, what has him coming all over his fist, all over his pants. He’s so startled by it that he doesn’t know what’s happening until his vision blurs, until he sits up a little straighter as a wave of pleasure crashes over him in a sudden rush, ebbing slowly away.

Still, he watches. He watches and waits for you to finish, watches as your hips rise up up up off the seat of your chair to fuck yourself onto your fingers. He can see your toes curling, can hear your breathing. There’s nothing else to listen to, other than the faint sounds of your wet cunt as you finger yourself for him to watch, and that breathing.

When you do come, it is with a satisfied moan, your body slumping in your chair. You look so beautiful, unbuttoned and sloppy, messy. You’d been grabbing at your hair, he can tell by the way it’s mussed. He stares, unblinking at the screen, his mouth dropped open just a little, tongue grazing the tops of his teeth as he watches you toy with your nipples a little more. Slowly, lazy, languid. It must’ve been a nice orgasm, then.

You startle him, by looking directly into the camera. He had forgotten that you knew he was watching, and a different kind of thrill shoots through him.

Maybe one day he’ll press record, maybe one day he’ll bring the files back to the house and he’ll fuck you while you fuck yourself on the television screen. Maybe one day you’ll fuck him while you fuck yourself on the screen.

Paul’s cock is hard again.

You’re still staring right at him, right into his eyes, and you grin, reminding him of just how lucky he is to have someone as amazing as you, when you bring your fingers to your lips and lick up your own come and say,

“Lets go home.”


End file.
